The Winter Wedding (9 page)

‘Wow,’ Lila said, her gaze drifting around the room, taking it all in. A wide smile came to her face. ‘This place is a wedding wonderland.’

Jane smiled modestly.

‘She’s a miracle worker,’ I said, familiar with all the work Jane had done for the costume department on tight deadlines. ‘And she’s going to do a fantastic job on
your dress, I promise you.’

‘She’s being kind,’ Jane said. ‘Now, why don’t you all sit down on the chaise longue, I’ll get us some Champagne and we can talk through your
ideas.’

Mum smiled, and sat next to my sister on the seat. She nudged Lila gently. ‘Well, this is a bit special, isn’t it?’

I got out some of the images Lila and I had put together as a collage, and when Jane returned with the drinks, I showed them to her.

‘Lila’s a dancer, like I mentioned to you on the phone, so I think she’d like something with lightness and grace. Is that right, Lila?’

‘Yes. Nothing over-the-top, a top that’s lean and I guess a little like a leotard, with a skirt that’s floaty and fairy-like. I don’t want anything too structured –
it’s going to be a summer wedding, and I’d like the dress to reflect that.’

‘Nice,’ Jane said, taking a few notes. ‘How do you feel about sparkles?’

‘I can do sparkles,’ Lila said, with a smile. ‘That would be nice. I do want it to feel special, just not, you know, fussy.’

‘Perfect. The kind of dress I like best. And you have the kind of figure that could carry anything off, which helps.’

Lila shifted in her seat and looked down at the dark wood floorboards.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .’ Jane said, backtracking.

‘Do you have anything similar we could take a look at?’ I said, jumping in and hurriedly trying to change the subject.

‘Yes,’ Mum said, clearly feeling the same way, and jumping to her feet, busying herself with looking at some of the gowns that were hanging up. ‘This one is gorgeous,’
she said, pointing to a knee-length 1920s style dress, with Art Nouveau detailing.

Lila smiled again.

This is what we did, me and Mum, and I’m not sure really why, apart from out of habit. When there was something wrong with Lila, we put all our energies into pretending there wasn’t
– as if that would make it all go away.

I turned up the volume on my iPod dock, and sat down at the desk in my room. In front of me were printed images of dresses, flowers and cake, and now it only remained for me to
make the set for Lila and Ollie’s wedding. I’d constructed the basic shape of the ballet school, and painted it, and now took out a scalpel from my pencil case and cut out the small
figures that represented my sister and her groom. Once I had her dress right – following the design we’d discussed with the dressmaker, I got to work on Ollie. Even here, in miniature
form, they looked just right together. Ollie had quickly become Lila’s anchor, the stability that she needed after years of drifting back and forth to shore. Not that she’d necessarily
been unhappy – we’d had a hundred nights of laughing and talking, and having fun in that time, but Lila herself had admitted more than once that she sometimes felt as if she was
hovering over herself, looking down. Like she couldn’t quite take hold of who she was, be at the steering wheel of her own life. I can’t say I understand exactly what she means –
it’s not something I’ve ever felt, but I understood well enough to notice that something changed when she met Ollie. Her eyes ceased darting around and her energy was different –
she was calmer.

I placed tiny flower arrangements on the tables, and going up the aisle in the dance studio at the ballet school, tiny versions of the wildflower posies that Lila and I had settled on. The
wooden benches were filled with paper silhouettes, representing the guests. At the event itself, our family and friends would be on one side, Ollie’s on the other. I still hadn’t heard
from Ben – but I put him in there.

Next, I put Lila and Ollie in place, Ollie waiting at the top of the aisle next to the celebrant, and Lila and the bridesmaids, including me, in a floaty dress, at the doorway of the building in
Leamington Spa.

I got to my feet, stood back and took in the scene. From the tealights lighting the way up the stairs, to the flowers wound around the banisters up to the venue, it was taking shape.

A knock came at the door and I hurriedly put the set away in my closet. ‘Yes?’ I said, closing the door and drawing the latch across it.

Amber put her head around the door. ‘You coming out of here tonight? I’ve made us some pasta, if you’re hungry.’

‘Sure.’ I nodded. ‘Thanks.’

‘Head full of wedding planning?’ Amber guessed.

‘A bit,’ I said, smiling at the way she always seemed to be able to see right through me. ‘I guess it is.’

‘Your sister’s lucky to have you,’ Amber said.

‘She deserves for this to go perfectly.’

‘Hey,’ I said, when Lila picked up the phone later that day. ‘What you up to this afternoon? Fancy popping around for tea?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, distantly. ‘I’ve got a few things to do at home.’

‘Sorting your knicker drawer again?’ Lila and Ollie’s flat was always immaculate – I didn’t believe for a second that there was anything pressing that needed
doing.

‘Something like that,’ she said. There was no accompanying laugh, though, and it was yet another signal to me that I shouldn’t give up.

‘I’ll come to you,’ I suggested.

‘No,’ Lila snapped.

I drew in my breath at her response, and the line fell silent for a moment.

‘Sorry,’ she said, after a pause. ‘I didn’t mean to sound unfriendly . . . it’s just, I’m in the middle of something, like I said.’

‘Something so important you don’t even have five minutes?’ I said, not believing her.

‘I can’t,’ she said. It didn’t matter that we were on the phone, I could hear her voice crack.

She hung up.

I sat with the phone still cradled in my hand. Something was wrong.

I couldn’t sit back and watch this all happening again. I just couldn’t.

Here, in my kitchen, surrounded by the smells of fresh baking and coffee just brewed, I was cast back to our days as teenagers. When Lila was fighting an internal enemy, one that was trying to
trip her up as we trod the path of adolescence together.

It should have been obvious to us all that something was wrong a lot earlier than it was. When I visited Lila on the hospital ward, she was only sixteen.

I cycled into work the next day, and found Josh at my desk putting a folder in my in-tray. The office was empty and quiet.

‘The new script,’ he explained. ‘I thought you might want to have a look through.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

I felt as if I could barely focus. His face – it was all just a blur – I was seeing Josh with my memory more than with my eyes.

‘Hazel, are you OK?’ he asked, coming to my side.

I breathed in, trying to calm down. My legs were unsteady and I felt as if I might fall over. He put his arm around me, and led me over to the sofa in Emma’s office. I’d spent time
with Lila, plenty of time, planning the wedding – and yet I’d totally failed to see that she was unhappy.

I sat down, and the dizziness eased. Josh sat next to me, a look of concern in his eyes. ‘That any better?’ I nodded mutely.

‘You wait there, I’ll get you some water.’

He came back a moment later with a glass. I took tentative sips, and the sick feeling started to subside. The usual distance between me and Josh had returned, and he wasn’t sitting so
close any more. I kind of wanted him to come back.

‘You went so pale,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ I managed at last. ‘Felt fine this morning, then it came on all of a sudden when I got here.’

‘Shall I call you a cab?’ he said, already getting his phone out of his pocket. I stilled his hand with mine. As I touched his warm skin, I felt better. Safer. As if what I had
started to suspect was happening to Lila, wasn’t. Not really.

‘No,’ I said. My hand was still there, on his, and neither of us moved to change that. ‘I’d rather be here.’

‘OK,’ he said. I moved my hand back to my lap, and normality crept back in. ‘I’ll just keep my head down a bit today.’ I finished the glass of water in a gulp.
‘See, feeling much better already, really. Thanks for that.’ I moved to get up, and then my vision blurred again.

‘Hazel, what’s going on?’ Josh said, concerned.

‘Must be food poisoning or something,’ I lied. He fixed me with a stare that told me he didn’t believe me.

‘Is it Lila?’

As he said her name, goosebumps rose on the skin of my upper arms, and my legs. I felt as if he could see right through me, and I wasn’t used to feeling that way with anyone.

I nodded. Tears welled up in my eyes and I brushed them away hurriedly, as if that way he wouldn’t know I was crying.

‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I said. ‘I’m just a bit worried about her at the moment. I can’t shift this feeling.’

‘You need to go. Go to her and find out what’s going on.’

‘But I can’t . . .’ I said. ‘There’s too much going on, with Emma, with the show . . .’

‘Nothing that can’t wait. I’ll cover for you, Hazel.’

I walked through the rain-streaked east London streets to Lila’s flat. The rosebushes were usually bright with spring blooms, but now the grey city drizzle had reduced
them, in their fallen pastel-coloured form, to just another layer of sludge, alongside discarded free newspapers and chocolate wrappers. I skidded a little in my heeled boots, and let loose a
swearword. I didn’t need to be hurrying – Lila didn’t know I was coming, and from the way she was on the phone there was every chance she wouldn’t even speak to me, but I
felt a sense of urgency in getting there. My gut told me that she wouldn’t be at rehearsals today, even though she hardly ever missed them.

I saw the glow of a lamp in Lila’s upstairs living room. The same oversized desklight that had once been in our flat, next to the sofa. A figure got up to standing, silhouetted against the
window, looking out. The way her chin was slightly lifted, how her hips jutted out slightly from her slim waist. Twelve, or twenty-nine, it was unmistakably Lila.

I let myself in as quietly as I could, with the spare keys, hoping it wouldn’t startle her. Now I was here there was no way I was going to risk her ignoring the doorbell and pretending I
wasn’t there. This way she wouldn’t be able to blank me out. She appeared at the top of the stairs in a loose t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, her hair tied back and her face gaunt.
‘Hazel. What are you doing here?’ Her voice was faint though, not angry.

‘I want us to talk, Lila. And I mean really talk. I don’t want to be brushed off any more.’

‘OK,’ she said, moving slightly to one side at the top of the staircase. ‘Come up.’

My heart raced as I walked up the stairs. I’d half-hoped she’d deny that anything was wrong. But she hadn’t.

Lila made us tea and we sat together by the window, mugs warming out hands. As the rain fell more heavily outside, you could almost forget for a moment that it was supposed to be summer.

‘You shouldn’t have sneaked in like that,’ she reprimanded me.

‘Maybe not.’ I shrugged. Her face was strained, and there was a greyness to her skin. It pulled tight across her forehead and cheeks.

I made myself say it. ‘I was worried about you, Lila. I
am
worried about you.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said, flatly. She looked down at the floor and scuffed at a whorl in the floorboard with the toe of her slipper. ‘I’m fine.’

‘No you’re not.’

Our gazes met, and I saw that the bottom rims of Lila’s eyes were a deep red.

‘You look exhausted,’ I said.

‘Rehearsals have been busy.’

‘Come on, it’s not just that.’ I took a breath. ‘Lila. Be honest with me. What’s really going on?’

The room fell quiet. I searched Lila’s face for the familiar clues – the way her gaze would dart away from mine, or the side of her bottom lip would disappear into her mouth as she
bit it, the way her eyebrows would come together just a fraction and a faint line would appear between them.

‘Nothing,’ she said. She shook her head. ‘Nothing’s wrong at all.’

And with those words, she shut the conversation down. But I’d seen it, that tiny crease in her brow that told me she was lying.

As I walked home on my own, I remembered how it had been, back then.

She looked so small in the hospital bed, beneath the white sheets and the pastel-coloured blanket. Her arms were thin, pale as her face.

‘ You came,’ Lila said, her voice quieter than usual.

‘Of course I came, you divvo,’ I said.

In spite of her evident discomfort, she smiled then, at my familiar insult. Just a whisper of a turn at the corner of her lips, but I saw it, and it lifted my heart.

‘Boring as hell in here,’ she said. ‘Mum and Dad brought me the lamest magazines, and while I’ve swapped them with the other patients, I can’t say it really
worked out that well for me.’ She pointed over at a copy of
Dogs UK
magazine, and there it was again, a glimmer of the sister I knew.

‘ You’ll be out soon,’ I said, taking a seat. I said it brightly. Because it was true, surely. This was Lila we were talking about, not one of those unhappy teenagers who
get caught up in wanting to look thin. She wasn’t like that. Plus everyone fancied her – all of the boys at school. There was no way she could feel that she wasn’t
attractive.

‘I hope so,’ Lila said.

‘ You will,’ I said.

‘Thanks for being here,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of lonely.’

‘I guess it must be,’ I said, looking around at the adult ward.

‘I don’t like the quiet. Not really,’ Lila said. ‘Because when it’s quiet, I hear it all more.’

‘Hear what?’ I asked, nervously.

‘The bad stuff.’

‘Don’t,’ I said, covering her delicate, frail hand with my own. ‘You’re going to be OK, you know.’

Lila’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Am I? I feel like I’m a hundred years old right now.’